


Paper, China, Pearls

by leiascully



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anniversary, Dancing, Dress Up, F/M, Jazz - Freeform, Little Black Dress, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor’s very good at presents, except for the waiting, and he’s exceptional at anniversary presents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper, China, Pearls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clare009](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clare009/gifts).



> Timeline: references to "The Wedding of River Song" and "The Angels Take Manhattan"  
> A/N: Paper, china, and pearls are traditional gifts for the first three wedding anniversaries in some Western cultures. I did a little research on stars [here](http://www.astro.wisc.edu/~dolan/constellations/starname_list.html) and read up on classic Who geography [here](http://tardis.wikia.com/wiki/Doctor_Who_Wiki), and the whole thing was inspired by [this glorious piece of fanart](http://littleulvar.deviantart.com/art/the-timelords-352949518) by [Littleulvar](http://littleulvar.deviantart.com/).  
> Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ and all related characters are the property of Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, and BBC. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

"Doctor Song!"

River waited. The anthropology students had learned early that it was best to come to her, rather than expecting her to dash about the entire site. She was involved; she was authoritative; she did not dash. One of her student assistants came over, walking quickly, cradling something small. River took it gently from the student's cupped hands. It was a small stone tablet, cut and half-sanded, still a bit bumpy under her fingers. There were runes carved into it, ancient ones. Pan Leica was an old planet, and this was an old language. Very old indeed, and yet the message was surprisingly up to date. 

"Can you decipher it?" the student asked eagerly.

"It's a bit of nothing," River said, running her hand over the runes. "A little note, perhaps, unfinished. Still, well done. I'll add it to the catalogue, shall I?"

"Yowza," the tablet said. The channels of the carving were smooth to the touch, carefully polished, and River couldn't help smiling to herself. Underneath were the coordinates in slightly rougher runes. This wasn't for the catalogue, and it wasn't from the Leicans. There was one person in the universe who would have left this message, and it was for her eyes only.

Another mystery, another breadcrumb. Another artifact to flummox ordinary minds. An invitation, left just for her, in the merry chase she and the Doctor led each other through time and space.

\+ + + +

River sat at the table in the café, sipping at her cup of tea and taking the occasional nibble at one of the ginger scones from the tray. The little stone tablet lay on top of her diary. She set down her cup and traced the letters again with one fingertip. Flirting was ever so much more fun when it spanned the whole of time and space. The Pyramids, now that had been a real coup, and she couldn't wait for the Doctor to divine the true meaning of Stonehenge, not to mention the other notes she'd left around the universe. She cupped her hands around her teacup and gazed at the tablet. The "yowza" sent a little frisson up her spine every time - it was really rather sexy for something she'd picked up at work. 

She had programmed the coordinates into the vortex manipulator and materialized in the middle of a busy London street. It had been raining - was still raining in a drizzly, misting, London sort of way, fog winding through the city as if it were trying to recreate past glories. The windows of the café had absolutely glowed against the grey light. She'd pushed her way through the crowd, which hadn't seemed at all startled to see her appear out of nowhere, and taken a table. It seemed like the Doctor's sort of place. For a Time Lord, he was awfully fond of domestic comforts. Tea and scones and a warm place out of the wet - that was the Doctor's way. 

River was halfway through the scone before she caught the faint familiar noise of the TARDIS landing somewhere close. She put the scone down deliberately, brushing away a few crumbs. She swirled the tea in the pot and poured an extra cup, adding two cubes of sugar and a slice of lemon. The bell over the door jingled and she looked up to see the Doctor. He swaggered in, gazing at her with mischief in his eyes. She could almost hear the thought go through his head - _Doctor Song, I presume_ \- but then his expression softened.

"River," he said in a soft throaty voice. 

"Hello, sweetie," she said. 

He slouched into the chair across from you. "I see that you got my message."

"You left it in a rather conspicuous place," she told him. "Quite in my way. I could hardly have missed it."

"Well, you graffitied the oldest cliff in the universe," he muttered. "I think we're even."

"I thought it was rather sweet," she said, picking up her teacup. 

He reached for a scone and raised an eyebrow at her. "It is a special occasion, after all."

"Is it?" She drank her tea.

"Of course it is," he said, leaning forward. 

"It must have slipped my mind," she told him.

"River," he said, very slightly vexed, "it's our thousandth anniversary."

"Ah," she said, smiling at him. "Sorry, sweetie. My days have been a bit scrambled lately. And it wasn't nearly a thousand years ago for me."

"Nor me," the Doctor said. "But you know me and waiting. Can you imagine waiting for the whole thousand years in the right order?"

"That's what most people do," River said, breaking off another bite of her scone. She savored the softness of it and the bite of the ginger on her tongue as she watched him.

"Well, most people," the Doctor said darkly. "That isn't you and me. Most people's anniversaries aren't a fixed point on which the universe turns, eh?"

"I suppose not," River said, amused. "But it's a bit difficult to calculate anniversaries from a timeline that never happened, and it also happens to be the anniversary of me having to murder your robot shell, which was more than a little traumatic, thank you." She leaned forward. "So? Have we done Easter Island?"

"Yes," the Doctor said. "Picnic at Asgard?"

"No," she told him. "Do you want to do diaries?"

"Not now." He fidgeted, tapping a little rhythm with his finger on the cover of her diary. 

"So why are we really here, sweetie?" she asked. "You and I can have our thousandth anniversary as many times as we'd like. Why now?"

"Why not?" he countered. She just gazed at him as he nibbled at his scone, avoiding her eyes.

"Oh, all right," he burst out. "I'm rubbish at presents, that's all. I never understood why anyone would want to wait for them. What's the point of Christmas Eve? Everything's already there. It isn't as if people live forever. It seems ridiculous to say no, let's all dream of sugarplums, all of the good bits have to wait another twelve hours. You might as well not even go to the shops until Christmas morning at that rate."

"I doubt they'd be open," she pointed out. "And there'd hardly be anything left. You got me a present?"

"Quite a nice present, I think," he said, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out some money, which he left on the table. "Would you like to see it?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, She slipped the little stone tablet back into her pocket, tucked her diary into her jacket, and offered the Doctor her arm. "Shall we?"

"Let's," he said, linking his arm through hers. They swept out of the little café back into the drizzly afternoon. The TARDIS was waiting, just around the corner. River flattened her palm against the wood of the door, not pushing it open, just feeling the sweet hum of the engines. The TARDIS purred at her and River stroked the blue panels gently. 

"Hello, dear," she murmured. 

"New TARDIS, by the by!" the Doctor said. "I think you'll be impressed." 

River smiled and pressed both hands against the door. She leaned close and whispered, her cheek close to the wood. "What have you got to show me, then?"

The door swung open and she nearly gasped. Cool blue light filtered over everything, and Gallifreyan covered the instrument panel. It was lovely, lovelier than before. Less homey, perhaps, but gorgeous all the same. She stepped in and went to the console, caressing the new controls: a wibbly lever here, no more rotary dial, a bit of a graphing calculator set into that panel. The engines sounded smug. 

"You gorgeous thing," River said admiringly. 

"Thank you," the Doctor said. 

"Not you, sweetie," River told him, her fingers still lingering on the new buttons and dials. "Although I do quite enjoy the new coat. It's rather flattering. I can't wait to get you out of it." 

The Doctor flustered at her for a bit. River lounged against the console and waited until he got close enough, then reached out and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. He was done with the flailing around, apparently. His arms slid around her, certain and sure and very firm. She reached up, pressing the length of her body against him. The collar of his coat was damp from the mist and his lips tasted faintly of tea and lemon. It was heaven.

"I liked your note," she murmured. 

"I thought you might," he said, slightly out of breath. He slid his arm around her again, this time to touch something on the console. The TARDIS made her particular, peculiar noise - he would always leave the brakes on - and River glanced up at the Doctor as they spun through space.

"Sorry," he said, sounding much more sexy than sorry. "I thought we'd better go."

"And here I thought my present was right here," she said, running her hands over his lapels.

"You'll have to wait to unwrap that," he said in a low half-husky voice, and then blushed. "If we didn't get going, I thought we'd never get there."

"Time machine," she reminded him, hooking her finger into the top of his waistcoat.

"Yes, but," he said, raking his hands through his hair, his body still pressed to hers, "you do _things_ to time. I'm not sure where it goes when you're around." 

River smirked. "Thank you, sweetie. What a pretty compliment."

"Hmph," he said. "Come along, Doctor Song." He reached for her hand. 

\+ + + +

It was a planet she hadn't visited yet. There was a market, full of little stalls and packed with all the sights and sounds and smells of little markets. Further back, the stalls turned into little shops.

"You do always love a little shop, don't you?" she teased the Doctor, swinging his hand a bit in hers.

"I do," he said. He seemed a bit distracted, peering into the shadows. Suddenly his head jerked around. "Aha!" He tugged at her hand. "It's just in here."

"What is?" River asked. The Doctor had to duck a bit to get in through the door of the shop. "Oh, my."

In the center of the little shop (so small that it seemed like most of the room was taken up just by the Doctor) was a dress form, and on the dress form, the most beautiful gown that River had ever seen. It was black, deep black, the endless black of space. It almost glowed in a dark sort of way. There was no more perfect dress in all the universe. 

"It's gorgeous," she said. She let go of the Doctor's hand and reached out to touch the fabric. It was thick and silky, just heavy enough to fall prettily. It felt like a cool spring evening against her skin. River could tell it was cut to fit her every curve. The neckline plunged just right, and the fabric flowed smoothly from hip to floor. 

"It's much better now," he said. "I tried to describe you to the tailor, but it came out a bit, er." He sketched a double-S curve in the air with his hands, blushing a bit, and River smirked at the exaggeratedly curvaceous form. "Fortunately, the TARDIS set things to right."

"It's perfect," River said. 

"The lady likes it?" the tailor said, coming out of nowhere. It was a small being, a species River didn't immediately recognize. 

"She likes it very much indeed," River said firmly. 

"The gentleman has exquisite taste," the tailor said. 

"In some things," River told it. "Women's fashion, oddly, yes. Men's fashion, no."

"Bow ties are cool," the Doctor insisted, adjusting his. 

River sighed. "Better than that sodding fez. But thank you both very much. This is incredible."

"The lady will try it on," the tailor offered.

"The lady will enjoy that very much," River said. The tailor ushered her into a back room, hardly more than a closet. It ran several long-fingered hands over the dress, smoothing the fabric.

"The lady will be mindful of pins," it cautioned her, and stepped out. 

River stripped off her shirt and jacket and stepped out of her trousers. The dress slipped off the form when she touched it, the fabric flowing over her arms. She eased into it, enjoying the glorious feel of the fabric against her skin. She couldn't help doing a slinky little dance move for the sheer pleasure of it. The neckline was as flattering as she'd hoped, and a slit split the skirt nearly up to her hip. She posed, imagining herself - there wasn't a mirror, or at least not much of one, just a fragment of glass. The door of the dressing room swung open and the Doctor gave her a rather sultry look.

"Well, hello," he said.

She craned her head over her shoulder. "I can't find the zip."

"I can help," he said. He took a step closer and reached out, touching two fingers to the base of her spine. He drew his fingertips slowly up her back. The fabric of the dress knit itself together under his touch. River shivered.

"Pressure zip," he whispered. "Keyed to you or me." He let his palm slide down her back and the fabric parted again. She reached back and guided his hand back up. His fingers curled over her shoulder, her hand on top of his.

"That's a bit unbearably romantic," she said. 

"I thought you'd like it," he said. She reached up to kiss him, but he put a finger to her lips. She paused, puzzled, but he took out the sonic. One buzz and the lights in the shop went out. One more and there was a light somewhere. River spun, caught a glimpse in the sliver of dirty mirror, and then froze. The light was from the gown: where the slit let the fabric fall away from her legs, a galaxy glowed. She flipped the skirt back, gazing at the multitude of gleaming stars. Each looked perfect and familiar. She twirled slightly and the skirt swirled around her knees, showing more and more stars underneath.

"It's perfect," she breathed.

The Doctor brushed the fabric with a fingertip. "Aldebaran, that one. Zavijah. And that little sparkler there, that's Torcularis Septentrionalis. You'll never lose your way in this."

"Well, I'm always home with you," she told him. "But thank you, sweetie. It's a remarkable gift."

"I found it in a bazaar on a little planet in very nearly the middle of nowhere," the Doctor said. "Cost me Marilyn Monroe's lipstick mark and the story about how Martha and I met Shakespeare plus about half a dozen minor relics, but it was worth it. It needed to belong to you, and I knew this tailor could do it justice."

"Has it got a story?" River asked.

"I'm sure it has," the Doctor said, gazing into her eyes. "But whatever it is, the one you write in it will be better."

This time he didn't stop her kiss, but returned it with a good will.

\+ + + + 

They took a quick jaunt back to the TARDIS, just long enough for River to finish changing. Fortunately, she'd left the pertinent supplies in her room. She found her suspenders, rolled stockings up her legs luxuriously slowly, checked the straightness of her seams, and strapped her pistol high on her leg. There was never any harm in having insurance, and however the Doctor protested, he liked a little danger. She could tell by the way his eyes lingered at her thighs when she strolled into the control room. He had changed too, into one of his tuxedos. It looked like the one he'd worn to her parents' wedding. There was a pleasing symmetry to that. She looked closer as he sauntered around the console: yes, there, when the tails of the coat billowed, there were stars. His jacket was cut from the galaxy cloth, tailored to match his wedding suit. This was his anniversary jacket, special for the occasion. She couldn't help smiling at that. His sentimental side was utterly charming.

"Yowza," he said, that rakish expression on his face. 

"Thank you, sweetie," River said, putting an extra sway in her walk and watching the Doctor's gaze follow her every move. She tipped her face up for a kiss and he leaned down, not reaching out for her. Somehow the fact that only their lips touched intensified the contact. Kissing the Doctor was like gazing into the Time Vortex: everything else stopped, nothing else mattered. Your life changed and the stars spun around you. The kiss scorched through her, making her weak in the knees, but she held out as long as she could, until suddenly each of them reached out for the other, holding on tight, catching their breath in the support of the embrace. 

"Where shall we go?" the Doctor asked, his voice a little raspy.

"For our thousandth anniversary?" River asked. "Oh, _everywhere_." 

The Doctor's face lit up brighter than the galaxy cloth. He pulled the lever and the TARDIS' engines pulsed. 

"Shall we?" he said, offering her his arm. 

She linked her arm through his and together they walked out into the universe. 

\+ + + +

They danced under every glorious sky. They saw the birth of stars and the end of all things. They tasted living gems and drank champagne distilled from moonlight, and they glowed with the illumination of it and with their happiness. They ran together for the sheer joy of it. They set history right and got some of it wrong, and though the Doctor's eyes narrowed every time River had to pull out her gun, she could tell he enjoyed it all the same. They walked labyrinths of flowers and lounged on beaches under three suns. They took a sleigh ride on an ice planet where the views were so beautiful and the cold so intense that they nearly lost their breath. They parked the TARDIS in orbit around the symphony planet and sat drinking tea with their legs hanging out the door, listening to the achingly beautiful strains of the planet's rings sliding through each other. 

The Doctor and River, everywhere, always. She lost track of the days, which turned into weeks and then years. 

Every now and then she would catch him watching her when he thought she wasn't looking, and the shadowed green of his eyes was enough to break her heart.

"Doctor?" she said once, putting all of her questions into his name. 

"Hmm?" he said, startling out of his reverie. "Oh, nothing. I just missed you."

"I'm here," she told him.

"Yes," he said, wrapping her up in his arms and tucking his face against her hair, breathing her in as if she were the only thing sustaining him. "You're here." 

She leaned into him, nuzzling at his throat. "You'll never be rid of me, sweetie." 

"That's all I could ever ask," he said. 

"You just watch us run," she promised. 

\+ + + +

They stayed for a few days in the house that had been Amy and Rory's. They slept in the guest bedroom, tangled around each other under the striped duvet. They made tea and River sorted through the Pond photo albums, the delight of seeing her parents' happy faces balanced precariously against the ache of missing them. The Doctor puttered around in the garden, pricking himself when he tried to put together a bouquet of roses. River laughed, but he was so pleased with himself when he presented her with the flowers. 

"They're lovely," she said, burying her face in the velvet-soft petals as he dropped into the chair next to hers. "Thank you, sweetie."

"I'd never got you any flowers," he said. "It seemed a shame."

"Hardly the most shameful thing you've done," she said, winking at him, and he blushed.

"There was absolutely nothing shameful in that," he announced, a little too loudly. "It was nice. More than nice. The best."

"It's always the best," River said, smiling, and he smiled back at her.

"The best ever," he said softly. "River...."

The way he said her name was too much. She dropped the roses in her lap, pulling him over for a kiss. His lips were soft against hers, gently yielding, and then wanting, needing, asking for more. The kiss deepened until she was clinging to him, both of them shivering, breathing too fast. She broke the kiss and pressed her forehead to his. She could feel him exhale against her cheek as their breath settled into sync. He cupped his hands around her face, pulling back just far enough to gaze into her eyes. 

"You and me, Doctor Song," he said huskily. She put her hands over his. She could feel the beat of his hearts where her fingers curled over his wrist. 

"Until the end of time," she promised. 

She saw history written in his eyes, every beginning and end he'd ever seen. She saw the weight of it, heavy on him, and the way she lightened his burden. The roses half-crushed in her lap gave off their sweet perfume as she held his gaze and it was a perfect moment, one she wished she could put between the pages of her parents' photo album. And then he glanced down, and she knew that the moment had passed. 

"I suppose I should be getting back," she said lightly. "Ancient mysteries to unravel, students to terrorize, all of that."

"Time machine," he told her, his thumb caressing her jaw. "You want to leave?"

"Sweetie, I never want to leave," she reassured him, squeezing his hand. "But I have things to accomplish. You're not the only one with worlds to save."

"I know," he said. "I suppose I just wanted it to last forever."

"You and I, we _are_ forever," River told him. "I'll always be there with you. Wherever I am, whenever I am, I'm with you."

He sighed, his hands moving from her face to her hair. "It isn't quite the same, dear." 

"You can come and get me any time," she promised, her hands sliding from his hands to his face. He turned his head to kiss the ball of her thumb. "But we each have our own lives to live. There will always be another anniversary."

"Why are you always the strong one?" he grumbled, his voice gruff. 

"Long years of practice," she teased. 

"One last dance, Doctor Song?" he asked. 

"One _more_ dance," she corrected him. "We'll never have any lasts. Forever, remember."

"Well then," he said. "Go and get dressed."

"After all this time, you still haven't mastered that sentence," she mock-complained. He stood up and offered her his hand, and they strolled into the TARDIS. River changed into her galaxy dress. It was still as sleek and perfect as the day she'd first put it on. She skipped the stockings this time, and left her heels in the wardrobe. It had rained the day before and the ground was still too soft. She stepped out into the garden, barefoot, to find the Doctor in his tuxedo fiddling with a gramophone. He pointed the sonic at it and the device creaked into life, the speaker crackling. He slipped a record out of its jacket and put it on the turntable, dropping the needle. River recognized the opening notes of "As Time Goes By". 

"Of all the back gardens on all the planets in all the universe," she said. "But time doesn't just go by for us, sweetie."

"No, it doesn't," he told her, opening his arms. "But here's looking at you."

She stepped into his embrace, looping her arm around his neck. He took her right hand and settled his other hand on her waist, holding her close. The grass was cool under her feet. His arms were warm and solid around her. They swayed together, holding each other up, drifting through the garden. A breeze played with River's curls and swirled her skirts, brought the perfume of the roses closer, pushed the Doctor's forelock over his eyes. River swept it back gently and he smiled at her, that achingly happy smile she loved so much. 

She would see him again. She knew it in her mind, in her heart, and in her bones. Still, she held onto him as if it were really and truly the very last time. It was too much, deliciously too much. She clung to him and he let go of her hand to pull her in tighter. They stood there, locked in a wordless embrace, because there were no words that could ever say as much as a touch did. River's hands clutched the smooth fabric of his jacket and he leaned down to press his cheek to hers. She took a deep shivery breath, breathing him in, filling herself up with the essence of him. He kissed her temple with a sweet sigh.

"My River," he whispered. 

A tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away tenderly. She sniffed. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I don't know why I'm crying. I'm really quite happy. More than happy."

"I understand that it runs in your family," he said wryly, and she laughed against the prickle of her tears.

The song ended, the last sweet notes like birdsong. The record crackled for a moment and then a brighter melody kicked in. River laughed in earnest now, the tears drying. The Doctor stepped back, twirling her under his arm. Her gown billowed, the starlight gleaming on the grass. 

"'Fly Me To the Moon'?" she asked. "A little on the nose, sweetie."

"I'll have you know that Frank recorded this record just for me," the Doctor admonished. "Anyway, happy anniversary, wife." He hesitated. "I do love you, you know, even if I've never said it. Have I said it?"

"Not in those words," she said, her heart thudding joyfully off-beat for a moment. "You're fortunate that I'm good at drawing conclusions from historical evidence. But yes, husband, I more than suspected."

"As long as that's settled," he said, and kissed her as if they had all the time in the universe.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Raise Our Cups To The Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/829668) by [leiascully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully)




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